Kenosis of God: The Self-Limitation of God - Father, Son, and Holy Spirit

By David T Williams

My first impression of the title Kenosis of God was that this was going to be an academic book replete with boring, complex and difficult exegetical and theological arguments. On the contrary, I found out after reading that it was very engaging, exciting and very refreshing book on Christian Theology. The major strengths of this book are [that it is] (1) thoroughly biblical, (2) historically and theologically consistent with evangelically Christianity, (3) philosophically logical and coherent, and above all (4) relevant to the Christian life.

I enthusiastically commend this book not only to Bible students and academic theologians but to Christians who desire not only to know the truth of Christian Theology but its implications on the Christian life.
Professor Samuel Waje Kunhiyop, PhD,
Head of Postgraduate School, South African Theological Seminary

The book argues that the kenosis of Jesus is not an isolated act in the history of incarnation but is embedded in the very nature of his divinity. The entire Trinity operates in kenosis, a deliberate choice to self-limitation in order to relate with one another and with the powerless. The book shows that each person of the Trinity, Father, Son and the Holy Spirit, participates and works in a kenotic way in their relation to the humanity. The creator who accepts to give dominion to the people He created, Jesus who limits himself by becoming a human being and the Spirit who dwells in and works through the Church accepting the risk of being grieved by the human fallen nature.
Dr. Lubunga wEhusha of the Evangelical Seminary of Southern Africa

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Apr 10, 2009
• ISBN: 9781440132247

David T Williams

Originally from the UK, where he graduated as an engineer from Cambridge university, David's life was changed when he became a Christian. He then trained as a teacher and went as a missionary to Southern Africa. There he has ministered in schools, hospitals, prisons and churches, often using visual aids as a powerful tool for communicating the Gospel. Since 1983 he has taught systematic theology at the University of Fort Hare, one of Africa's oldest universities, and well-known as the alma mater of Nelson Mandela. He is now a professor there, and not only teaches theology at undergraduate and graduate levels, but has published extensively, both articles and books (see http://www.davidtwilliams.com/). He is married with four grown-up children.

Book preview

THE KENŌSIS OF

GOD

The self-limitation of God -

Father, Son, and Holy Spirit

DAVID T. WILLIAMS

iUniverse, Inc.

New York Bloomington

KENŌSIS OF GOD

The self-limitation of God - Father, Son, and Holy Spirit

Copyright © 2009 by David T. Williams

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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Contents

PART 1

The kenōsis of Jesus Christ

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

PART 2

The kenōsis from the Father

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 6a

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

PART 3

The kenōsis of the Spirit

Chapter 10

PART 4

The kenōsis of the Church

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

PART 5

The end of kenōsis

Chapter 14

Preface

It is not for nothing that I call myself a Christian, rather than religious or follower of God. Although it would seem that the early disciples of Jesus did briefly experiment with other names for their new faith, such as the Way (eg Acts 9:2), a reminder that Christianity must result in a distinct lifestyle, they would seem to have quickly settled on the one which has stuck up to this day. And rightly so; even if Christianity does teach a distinctive manner of life, its essence is not merely following a teacher. That may well be what is taught in many other faiths, but the uniqueness of Christianity lies in its insistence that its heart is not following a Master, but in a continuing relationship with him. Action follows from that. Thus for any Christian, the understanding of the nature of Christ must be of vital importance, because if for no other reason, it affects the understanding of how we are saved.

Christianity must involve kenōsis

Who is this Christ? Here there are several key passages of the New Testament to which we may naturally turn; nobody would question that the short passage in Philippians 2, sometimes called a hymn to Christ is one of the most important. But right there is a landmine; its main idea is the fact that Jesus emptied himself, from which is derived the key word kenōsis. And it is this that the apostle is holding up as the pattern for a truly Christian lifestyle. So what does it mean?

In the fourth century, in the height of the Arian controversy, Athanasius suffered exile five times because of his belief about the nature of Christ, that he was indeed fully divine. He realised that if Jesus was not divine, then we cannot be saved. Immediately this tells us that whatever else it means, the word kenōsis cannot mean that he became any less than fully God.

It is necessary to say this right at the very beginning of the book, because the idea, and particularly the word kenōsis, has a history, an unfortunate one. In the nineteenth century the proposal of kenotic Christology was put forward, that the second Person of the Trinity was limited in aspects of his divinity, and in that way could become incarnate. Objections and criticism of the idea were rapidly forthcoming, and after a few decades, the idea was largely abandoned and forgotten. This means that any suggestion of kenōsis is likely to produce a bias against it from the very beginning, and it is in danger of not being taken seriously (Dawe 1963:24). Yet, with qualification, some aspect of kenōsis is absolutely essential if the incarnation is to be any more than just an idea. It is impossible for God to appear on the world without in some way limiting himself; as the appearances to Ezekiel (Ez 1-3) or to John on Patmos (Rev 1) make clear. People would simply be overwhelmed, and those appearances must in any case not have been of God in total fullness. God in blinding majesty is deadly, but in condescending self-revelation is saving (Horton 2002:320). The coming down of God is basic to his nature, and so to his revelation (Oliphint 2004:44). And to be incarnate, not just appear, limitation is even more necessary. Dawe (1963:142) believes that some form of kenōsis is essential for New Testament theology. Richard (1982:162) describes kenōsis as the link relating the finitude and sinfulness of man to the love of God. Indeed, there are several modern thinkers, well respected, Jűrgen Moltmann being the obvious example, who have espoused the idea (cf Pinnock 2001:12). It must be suggested that the rejection of kenōsis in its nineteenth century form, although this is justified in the form in which it was then put forward, was motivated more by the influence of a Greek worldview which stressed the immutability and particularly the impassibility of God. The idea of kenōsis had been one of the casualties in the battle with Hellenism (Dawe 1963:53). This had already given problems to theology in the Christological discussions of the early centuries. In contrast, if reliance had been put more on a Hebraic, a more Biblical world-view, suggestions of kenōsis would have been treated more fairly. The idea of change is more compatible with the modern world-view (Pinnock 2001:116). Indeed, the kenōsis of Christ, and its attribution to the other Persons of the Trinity, is consistent with the Biblical witness, as van den Brink (1993:245) affirms. This is as long as it is a SELF-limitation, and that God is not believed to be inherently limited, or constrained from without. He is emphatically sovereign, even in his kenōsis. Unlike other suggestions, such as in process theology, kenōsis does not reflect an inherent limitation in God, so includes the affirmation of God’s ultimate control.

Kenōsis through the spirit

The kenōsis of Christ is in the context of an appeal; the Philippian passage urges personal kenōsis upon Christians. This imitation of Christ must then be an act of will, a voluntary choice, a response to the appeal that the apostle is making. But one of the wonders of Christianity is that it is not simply a human act in response to belief and decision, but is enabled by the Holy Spirit. Without this, it would be impossible; perhaps there are some few individuals who have been able to humble themselves, but at best, they are rare. But for Christians, it is a possibility; Philippians 2 starts with a reference to participation in the Spirit. Thus any imitation of the kenōsis of Jesus is empowered by him, just as was the kenōsis of Christ himself. God is not overpowering but empowering (Coakley 2001:206). This self-limitation was done from a desire for relationship with the world and in particular with the redeemed. Philippians 2 describes the act of kenōsis, done in order to enact salvation. Kenōsis is then both the means, and the goal, of salvation; it is therefore a key role of the Spirit. Even when his activity may seem to be spectacular, such as when he enables healing, or speaking in tongues, glossolalia, the one who experiences them must, or should, be extremely humbled by the fact that God has worked through him or her.

But the Spirit does not only work in a kenotic manner, but his very nature is kenotic. At face value, it is amazing that God in the world could just be ignored, but this is in fact the case! The Spirit has been referred to as the self-effacing, or shy Person of the Trinity, and certainly this is the case. He does not glorify himself, but Christ (Jn 16:14); this is also an example for Christians to emulate. Such as Congar (1993:5), and Moltmann (1985:102), do not hesitate to speak of the Spirit in terms of kenōsis; likewise Gaffin (1996:25) writes that the Spirit boxed himself in.

The nature of God is kenotic

This suggests something that is most significant. If Jesus acted in kenōsis, and if that is the same for the third Person, could it then be that kenōsis is an aspect of the very nature of God? What Jesus, and the Spirit, are doing, is simply acting in accordance with their very nature. This then suggests that it should also be a feature of the first Person, of the Father, and this is indeed the case. If the Spirit is shy, how much more the Father, who is never seen, choosing to act by the Son and Spirit, jealously guarding his transcendence? It is not for nothing that many writers have commented on the hidden nature of God. His action likewise is kenotic; for example many have understood the act of creation in terms of kenōsis, God limiting himself in order to give existence, and a measure of freedom, to the creation. Creation and incarnation are understood as two phases of the one process of God’s self-giving and self-expression (Rahner, in Richard 1997:94). Such self-limitation can provide a ready explanation for such old problems as the existence of evil.

This introduces the Trinity, and provides the framework for this book. Our experience is first of Christ as kenotic, but this relates back to the fundamental nature of God. It is precisely in the kenōsis of Christ (and nowhere else) that the inner majesty of God’s love appears, of God who ‘is love’ (I Jn 4:8) and a ‘trinity’ (Hans Urs von Balthasar, in Richard 1997:22). This kenotic love is for salvation, as God desires new partners for the eternal dance (Pinnock 2001:30), which is how the perichōrēsis of the Trinity has been described. Then it relates forward to its application to Christians by the power of the Spirit. The order, interestingly, is that of the traditional grace of 2 Corinthians 13:14, known and used on a regular basis by countless Christians. Here grace, love and fellowship are ascribed to the three Persons, each of which is in nature kenotic. This is obvious in the case of the first two attributes, which involve giving, and implied in the third, where any fellowship involves a measure of yielding to the other. Incidentally, although it may be thought that giving does not diminish the infinite God, it is observable that when Jesus healed, he did feel the loss of power (Mk 5:30). This must bring us back to the key question, which provides the theme for this book. What does kenōsis mean, and how does it manifest in the three Persons of the Trinity?

And of course, lurking in the background is another – what does this have to do with us? Theology may well be fascinating, but I can never be content unless it affects my life and that of others round about. If kenōsis is fundamental to what God is like, this would immediately explain why Christians are urged to be kenotic themselves, for being a Christian should mean reflecting the nature of God; we should become like him. The essential idea therefore comes frequently in Christian devotion; to give one example, taken from one of Charles Wesley’s hymns:

He left his Father’s throne above

So free, so infinite his grace -

Emptied Himself of all but love

And bled for Adam’s helpless race

‘Tis mercy all, immense and free;

For, O my God, it found out me!

Such a conclusion would have far-reaching consequences, but if it is a valid part of the imitation of Christ, must be taken seriously. Kenōsis is the pattern for Christian life, simply because a Christian life should be in imitation of God. This book started, as my others, with a study of the implications of Christian doctrine, in this case kenōsis, for the Christian life. What happened was that the tail started to wag the dog, and the section of the book dealing with application got so big that it really had to be separated. It then appeared as Have this mind (Williams 2007), leaving me to develop the theoretical basis for the application here.

But this step is essential if the appeal to follow a kenotic life is to be taken seriously, and so it is indeed necessary to continue to consider in all seriousness what the emptying of God is all about. What does it mean for Christ to empty himself? What are the implications of the kenōsis of the Father? In what way has the kenōsis of the Spirit affected his working in the world? And how does kenōsis relate to the fundamental Christian message, the means of salvation? And finally, how does the entire process work out in the future? These are the questions that this book seeks to answer.

It will probably be pointed out that the book as it stands is quite uneven, especially in respect of the referencing, where some chapters are liberally sprinkled, while others have almost none. The reason for this lies in the diverse origins of the material. Those with few are usually notes written to help students, supplementing what was covered in lectures, so that referencing was not so useful; how many students take the trouble to follow them up? The ones with many, on the other hand, were prepared for publication in academic journals, and are therefore likely to contain novel or controversial ideas which need to be supported. I hope that there are enough references to enable anybody interested to follow up material quoted or alluded to. I would hope that this book also stimulates further thought, and especially that further aspects of the idea of kenōsis will be uncovered. The author would love to hear suggestions; maybe one day the book might be developed further in a more even and satisfactory way.

I need to acknowledge therefore especially the comments of editors and referees. These were always appreciated, even if they were not always agreed with. They often stimulated new lines of thought. My thanks therefore to South African Baptist Journal of Theology, Old Testament Essays, Koers, Theologia Viatorum, Acta Theologica, Journal for Theology in Southern Africa for their exposure to, and publication of, various articles reflected in the book. All previously published material has however been extensively revised both to avoid the inevitable duplication between chapters and to attempt some continuity of thought in the book. A few sections are reworkings of parts of my earlier books, and are included here for completeness as they are relevant to the theme of kenōsis. Some of my previous books are referred to in the bibliography, and a list is included at the end of the bibliography. A number of colleagues read the entire book before publication, and I am especially grateful both for their patience and comments. I would particularly acknowledge Deon Thom, professor emeritus in Theology, retired from the University of Fort Hare, who has been a constant encouragement to me in my career there.

He writes, I must congratulate you on a very extensive and thorough discussion of a very important topic, a discussion which is indeed long overdue. One can only hope that other scholars will take up the challenge and enter the debate. For far too long the facts, as well as the many problems connected with God’s kenosis, have largely been ignored by theologians. Professor König, formerly of the University of South Africa comments, I … find your approach well informed, broadly based, strongly argued, responsible in terms of conclusions - an overall laudable piece of research. I highly appreciate both the exegetical and the systematic aspects of the presentation. You have a definite ability to draw lines together into an overall view. That is Systematic Theology at its best. And added to that, your Biblical basis is very strong. Then Dr. Lubunga w’Ehusha, of the Evangelical Seminary of Southern Africa, says in dealing with the topic of kenosis" the writer wants to stretch the mind of the reader beyond the controversy about the divine nature of Christ and Pauline Christology that has fuelled many theological essays and books. The passage of Paul’s epistle to the Philippians is not an essay to oppose or compare the divinity of Christ to his humanity but a calling to live out one’s Christian faith. The book argues that the kenosis of Jesus is not an isolated act in the history of incarnation but is embedded in the very nature of his divinity. The entire Trinity operates in kenosis, a deliberate choice to self-limitation in order to relate with one another and with the powerless. The book shows that each person of the Trinity, Father, Son and the Holy Spirit, participates and works in a kenotic way in their relation to the humanity. The creator who accepts to give dominion to the people He created, Jesus who limits himself by becoming a human being and the Spirit who dwells in and works through the Church accepting the risk of being grieved by the human fallen nature.

Professor Samuel Waje Kunhiyop, the head of Postgraduate School, South African Theological Seminary, writes that he expected that the book was going to be an academic book replete with boring, complex and difficult exegetical and theological arguments. On the contrary, I found out after reading that it was very engaging, exciting and very refreshing book on Christian Theology. What is most refreshing in this book, often lacking in theology is the practical implication of the study. This is surely a plus! He found that The major strengths of this book are [that it is] (1) thoroughly biblical, (2) historically and theologically consistent with evangelically Christianity, (3) philosophically logical and coherent, and above all (4) relevant to the Christian life. I enthusiastically commend this book not only to Bible students and academic theologians but to Christians who desire not only to know the truth of Christian Theology but its implications on the Christian life."

I must add, in conclusion to my introducing this theme, that Thielicke (1966:489) observes that any book is a compromise, that between the desire to develop an exact and exhaustive treatment of the subject, and the constraints of time, marketability, and even the demands of prospective readers. He could then have noted that what is necessary for the author is a form of kenōsis, seeing that a book is subject to such limitations! The desire is always to continue to develop, read and add, but I have learnt that there must come a day when the line is drawn, and completion is enacted. Always of course a sadness, and regret, for there must remain gems that have escaped the process of mining!

PART 1

The kenōsis of Jesus Christ 

The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ

Chapter 1 

The kenotic theory of the atonement

The word kenōsis has such a history in theology that it is advisable to start with a look at what gave it such a reputation. Ironically, the very term seems to have emptied itself, humbled itself, and become of no reputation! If it is to be used in any meaningful way, it must follow the example of Jesus and be resurrected and exalted. But how did that state of affairs come about?

The gospel must be understandable

The centre of the Christian message, so fittingly called the gospel, the euangelion, the good news, is that the means of salvation is available. We do not just have to die, but have the possibility of eternal life, not only after death, but also experienced, to some extent, even in the present. Perhaps the cherry on the top is that we are able to experience an anticipation of salvation even in the present, life abundant. Such a claim, such an offer, is stupendous, and almost unbelievable. When we are confronted on a daily basis with death, the hope of being able to overcome this is simply amazing. It is so amazing that for many people the message just cannot be accepted; it is just too good to be true. This is perhaps a particular problem in the modern world, which has a tendency to only accept something if it can be experienced or proved in some other way. And of course life after death is something that just cannot be proved. Even the experiences that some claim, to have contact with the dead, whether by western style séances or African divination or ancestral veneration, cannot really prove the point as they are subject to delusion, to psychological influence or even fraud. In any case it does not prove that spirits can live forever; maybe they too can live only for a short while longer. Claims of the experience of abundant life can also be scoffed at as being all in the mind.

But the same attitude that produces scepticism, and very rightly, can also produce an openness to being convinced even of such a claim that Christianity makes. If it can be shown how salvation may be achieved, then people are more open to accept it. The faith of Abraham, held up as an example of saving faith by Paul in his explanation of the gospel in his epistles to the Romans and Galatians, is totally amazing just because he simply believed the promise that God made to him without any explanation of how God would achieve what he said that he would do. For us, living on the other side of the incarnation, faith should be so much easier to receive, simply because it is possible for us to see the means by which God did what he promised. We do not have to just trust, but we can, to an extent, understand. It was a common medieval description of theology that it was fides quaerens intellectum, faith seeking understanding. Indeed, despite Tertullian, who said that he believed the gospel just because it is absurd, we have the privilege, with the rationality that God created us with, to understand, and so to accept. Such a rationality is even, as has often been pointed out, an aspect of the fact that people are created imago Dei, in the image of God (Gen 1:26).

Of course there is a significant difference between the faith that Abraham had and the faith that we are called upon to have. He was effectively called to accept that God would continue to create; that is not unreasonable, for as God had created the world, creation of a son for him, even in his old age, was not fundamentally different. We are not called to have faith in creation in the same way, but in a different action, the modification of what already existed. The difference is that God is not just doing something new, but altering what he had already done. This is something that he could not just do without infringing upon what had been already done. As people had already been made, and made with a measure of autonomy, it would just not be ethical to simply override what had been done without the acceptance of the people. So whereas it would have been possible for God to have simply given eternal life to the people that he had made, he needed a mechanism by which this could be done with the concurrence of those that he was in fact benefiting. Otherwise he would in fact be over-riding what he had already done, saying that it was wrong. On the contrary, one of the wonders of the gospel is that God did not go back, that he affirmed the sort of creation that he made, but made a way by which people could be saved, within the terms of that creation.

Salvation necessitated incarnation of full deity

It is the fact of the incarnation, presumably unknown to Abraham, that is at the heart of God’s mechanism of salvation. Respecting the creation that he had made, he entered it by means of his Son to make salvation available to people. Perhaps this does not really help the problem of faith, for just as salvation itself, the idea that God had become incarnate is also hard to accept. This is one reason why the faith that saves is of the same order as the faith that Abraham had.

The actual mechanism of salvation, the means by which we are saved, does require that Jesus Christ had to be fully divine. Salvation had to include a means of dealing with the sin that had caused separation from God in the first place and so death. This was by sacrifice, enacted on the cross, the fulfillment of the Old Testament practices. And if the death of Christ was to be adequate for the sins of the world, he had to be divine. Then if salvation was the granting of eternal life, that also demanded divinity, because this is a receipt of the eternal life that is a divine attribute. Christians live by the life of Christ, received by their union with him. In a sense they are divinised (2 Pet 1:4), re-created (2 Cor 5:17), born from above (Jn 3:3), all pictures that imply the divinity of the Christ who enabled this. It is hardly surprising that in the Arian controversy of the fourth century, Athanasius, the main opponent of Arius’ belief that the second Person, the Son, was essentially less divine than the first, the Father, was so steadfast in his belief because he appreciated that salvation was only possible if the Son was indeed fully divine. In the words of the creed proposed at the conference in Nicaea in 325 AD, called to deal with Arius’ ideas, the Father and the Son are homoousios, of the same essence. It was this that Athanasius so staunchly defended, and which has been a central Christian belief ever since.

But how can Christ also be human?

But it is because the affirmation of Jesus’ full divinity is so incredible that almost as soon as the Arian controversy was effectively settled, a further dispute arose as to how the divinity in Jesus related to his humanity. A reading of the New Testament, and especially the gospel of John, makes it very clear that Jesus was claiming to be divine, equal to the Father, a claim that several times prompted the Jews to try to stone him for blasphemy (eg Jn 8:59, 10:31). But not only did their staunch monotheistic belief, a result of the realisation, drummed in to them by the experience of several centuries of history, predispose them against any hint that Jesus could be a second God, but he so clearly appeared to be human. It was of course the first aspect that led to the Arian problem, and the realisation that in fact there was no contradiction with the Old Testament stand on monotheism, that God was indeed one, but in three Persons. However, the second problem, that Jesus so clearly seemed to be human, proved, if anything, to be even trickier to understand.

It was quite clear to those at the time that Jesus was a human being. Even if the account of his conception indicated his divinity, a perception reinforced by the event in Jerusalem when he was twelve (Lk 2:41f), the birth was normal, his growth as a boy and young man likewise, and even in the time of his ministry, so much that he did reflected a humanity that was completely normal. Just as we do, he ate, drank, got tired, and eventually even died. Indeed, even the message of salvation itself depends not only on his divinity, but again, as many of the early Fathers, not least Athanasius, realised, he had to be fully human in order to identify fully with us. If he were not, how could he die as an adequate sacrifice? How could he be our representative and substitute? How could we share his life if that life was not really human? How could he be a valid example for our lives, if he did not feel what we do? It is quite reasonable that so many modern attempts to understand the nature of Jesus do not do so in the traditional way, from above, by first accepting his full divinity, but rather from below, accepting the evidence of full humanity and trying to understand the Nicene affirmation that he was at the same time fully divine.

It is those words at the same time that caused such a problem at the time, a problem that continues up to today. How could a person who was so clearly a human being be divine? The greater conception that there is of the greatness and holiness of God, the greater seems the impossibility that the one who walked the paths of Galilee could actually be the one who created the stars. Yet although Jesus was truly human, this did not mean that he was merely human (Macleod 1998:65). It is hardly surprising that in theology, Christology has always generated the most heated debate (Erickson 1998:677). However, Erickson (1998:752) also points out that both humanity and deity are most clearly seen in Jesus, so they must be compatible!

The repeated question is how they can be compatible; what explanation can be at all acceptable? Yet, if the gospel message is to be presented successfully to thinking people, there just has got to be a reasonable explanation of how Jesus could manifest both divinity and humanity.

The aspect that has impressed most modern thinkers is that whereas it was clear that Jesus was human, it was not so clear that he was divine. The latter affirmation was a result of accepting his claims, the evidence of his deeds, his quality of life, and latterly his resurrection, but was not obvious just from his appearance. Should not God clearly appear to be divine, as at the transfiguration (Matt 17:1f), or when Jesus appeared to John on the Isle of Patmos (Rev 1:12f)? And even these, glorious though they were, hardly reflect the wonders of who he claimed to be.

How he appeared is the point. This was an early solution to the problem, that God presented himself in such a way that he only appeared, or seemed to be human. This docetism (Greek dokeō, seem) is obviously something that God could do, but at the cost of his real humanity, and especially then of salvation. If he only appeared to be human, we could not really be identified with him. In particular, if he only appeared to die, which was a very attractive solution in a world-view that presumed that God must be impassible, unable to suffer, then his death was not real and could not be a real atonement for our sin. We could not be forgiven, we could not be saved, if Christ’s humanity was docetic. The same objection was later raised to a more sophisticated explanation, that of Apollinarius, who proposed that Jesus did not have a human soul, but it was replaced by the second Person of the Trinity, the logos. This as well was speedily rejected by the Church; in the course of the Christological controversy it was repeatedly affirmed that what was not assumed could not be saved. Human beings could only be saved if Jesus was a full human being.

After much discussion and controversy, the affirmation was finally made, enshrined in the famous statement of Chalcedon in 451 AD, that Jesus was fully human, consubstantial with us, and that the Nicene affirmation remained correct, that he was consubstantial with the Father, so fully divine. He then had a complete human nature, and a complete divine one, these two natures being in one person, unconfusedly, unchangeably, indivisibly, inseparably (quoted fully in Grudem 1994:557 and Macleod 1998:185).

But this only sharpened the problem; the fact was that he most definitely appeared to be human, but not obviously divine. If Chalcedon was correct, surely he would have appeared to be divine? The answer is in the negative, for if he appeared to be in any way divine, then he would not be human, for part of the features of being human is of appearing to be. This is not applicable to being divine, for God is spirit (Jn 4:24), and so there is no divine appearance as such. This was again an Old Testament affirmation, resulting in the stringent prohibition of idolatry, for God just cannot be pictured.

It must be insisted that the attributes of divinity cannot detract from the real humanity of Jesus. This misconception has even resulted in the questioning of the traditional doctrine of the virgin birth, from the mistaken belief that full humanity requires two human parents. Even more significantly, the sinlessness of Jesus has been doubted, just because sin seems so much an attribute of humanity. Such beliefs are in any case contrary to the plain indications of scripture, firstly in the gospel stories of the birth of Jesus, and secondly in the explicit statements of such as Hebrews 4:15 or 1 Peter 2:22.

But those same scriptures also state clearly that on several occasions Jesus just did not manifest qualities that have traditionally been understood as those of divinity. It was not merely that his appearance was not as might have been expected, but also his actions did not seem always to be those of deity. On one occasion (Mk 6:5) he was not able to perform the wonders that might have been expected. Is not God supposed to be omnipotent? Then at other times he professed ignorance, such as of the time of the parousia, the second coming (Mk 13:32). Is not God omniscient? Then he was clearly not present everywhere at once, so, for example, had to travel in order to heal Jairus’ daughter (Lk 8:41f). Is not God omnipresent?